


If only...

by liars_dance



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance





	If only...

  


The out-of-the-blue phonecall knocks Sean sideways. "Viggo... It's been a long time, mate."

"Yeah - it has, Sean. I'm really sorry about that."

Viggo's apology takes Sean even more by surprise. "Sorry? Why? It's not like you promised to call or anything."

"No. I guess not - but I'm still sorry we lost touch the way we did."

Sean swallows, struggling to push away the memories that suddenly come rushing back - memories he'd painstakingly buried and filed away. "Lost touch, Viggo?" he repeats questioningly. "Is that what you'd call it?"

"Yes," Viggo replies. "I can't think of anything else to call it. I mean, like you say, I didn't promise to call and then _didn't_ call. But even though I didn't think you'd want to hear from me, I didn't deliberately set out to not call you either. It just happened, I guess..."

_Yes_ , Sean thinks. _Like we just happened - and then stopped happening..._ He hadn't left Viggo and Viggo hadn't left him – they'd just 'left' each other – hadn't talked enough, hadn't tried enough. But fuck, it had hurt nonetheless. "So why call me now?"

Viggo exhales slowly. "Because I saw a photo of you the other day - a recent photo - and you looked happy and relaxed. I wanted to say it was good to see you looking happy; it made _me_ happy to see you like that."

Unexpected disappointment floods through Sean and he leans against the wall. "Oh," he replies, his eyes closing. "I see. Well, er... well, I'm glad, I suppose."

"Glad, you suppose?" Viggo repeats.

"Well, yeah." Sean sighs a frustrated sigh. How could thirty seconds of conversation with Viggo reduce him to a gibbering fool? He was supposed to be over all this; no, he _was_ over all this... "What I meant was I'm glad you're happy for me being happy - or more accurately, I'm glad you're happy for thinking that I'm happy – which I am, now you mention it. So now we're both happy."

"I think you lost me there, Sean," Viggo murmurs.

_No, Viggo - we lost each other._ "Forget it - it doesn't matter." Sean takes a breath and straightens, ready to end this unexpected and inexplicably painful conversation - ready to get back to his life. "So, Vig - is that it? Said all you wanted to say?"

At the other end of the line, Viggo hears the change in Sean's voice and knows he has to act and act now. "No," he whispers. "I don't think I'll ever do that where you're concerned, Sean. I have notebooks full of words - things I should've said back then - things I want to say now.." Viggo pauses, waiting for a response from Sean that doesn't come. "I wrote them all down, Sean - all the things I should have told you. I wish things had been different. I want - ..." But Sean interrupts him with a softly spoken 'no' and Viggo falls silent. _And now I've left this too late..._

"I have this filing cabinet of memories, Viggo," Sean says evenly, despite his fast beating heart. "In my head, I mean - good memories and bad memories, all filed away in their proper place."

Viggo swallows and licks his dry lips, an empty feeling growing in his belly. He knows now that all the words he has in head and his heart and on the pages in his hands would remain unsaid. "So where am I filed, Sean? Good or bad or not filed at all?" he asks, not even trying to hide the hurt he had no right to feel.

Sean flinches at the pain he can hear in Viggo's voice, but gathers his resolve. He'd learned a long time ago that happiness wasn't an absolute - it was entirely relative. And Viggo had been right because now he _was_ happy - relatively speaking of course. His life didn't have the amazing highs anymore but it didn't have the desperate lows either; it didn't have Viggo. "You, Vig?" he says, his voice tinged with regret. "I have a special drawer just for you labelled 'Amazing – but don't go there again'."

Sean waits a moment for Viggo to respond but there's no sound at all – not even breathing. "Goodbye, Viggo," he whispers and slowly replaces the receiver.

\-- [*] --

  
About ten days later, a small package drops through Sean's letterbox. He recognizes the scrawled writing immediately and carefully opens it to reveal a folded pile of handwritten notes torn from a notebook and tied with a piece of string. On the front, Viggo had written,  
  


_Sean – all these words were meant for you, but through my own stupidity, I never made time to say them to you. They're yours – to do with what you want. I don't want them back – I have them all filed in my heart already – under 'If only…'_  
 __  
 _Viggo_  


  
Sean stares at the unwrapped notes for a long time. Since Viggo had called, he'd felt unsettled, unable to get back into what he was doing. He felt bad about the way in which he'd ended the call – and the fact that he'd not given Viggo a chance to speak. But he couldn't imagine calling Viggo back. Funny – a year ago he'd have been on his knees begging to hear all the things Viggo wanted to say - but he'd moved on since then, hadn't he?  
  
 _Don't go there again_ , his head tells him - but what did his head know? Sean takes a breath as he unknots the string, then sits down and starts to read.

 

\-- [*] --

"Sean? What the fuck are you doing here?"

_That wasn't quite the welcome I was hoping for._ "That's simple. I thought we should talk," Sean replies, stepping inside. "And I hate the bloody phone."

Viggo closes the door and slowly turns. "But you said you were – what was it? Oh yeah – _never going there again_... You said - ..."

"I know what I said," Sean interrupts, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "But that was before I read your notes, Viggo - before I read all those incredible, amazing, poetic words."

"Oh..." Viggo looks down at the floor for a moment. "I thought you'd throw them away. I didn't think you'd actually read them. So I sure didn't expect you to come over like this. I might not have been here."

So - there were to be no pleasantries then - no invitation in for a cup of tea after his long journey. Fuck, they were still standing in the hallway... "If you thought that, then why even send me them?" Sean asks defensively, hurt by Viggo's reaction to his being here and beginning to wish he'd asked the cab driver to wait.

"Because I..." Viggo pauses, trying to find the words. "Because I guess I thought that if I could hang onto the idea - the _hope_ \- that you'd maybe read them some day and understand, then perhaps I'd be able to let go – to heal - in time."

Sean stares at Viggo for a moment, trying to read his eyes. "Oh, I see." Sean swallows. "And have you done that? Healed, I mean?"

"Pretty much." Viggo whispers, but the lie lacks conviction. "The trip to Argentina helped – seeing old friends, meeting new people. I just got back the day before yesterday. If you'd come earlier in the week, you'd have come to an empty house."

_I think I've still come to an empty house..._ Sean nods, but only because he doesn't know what else to do – or say, for that matter. "I see," he says once more. "Well, I'm glad about that."

Viggo looks up. "You are?"

"Of course I am," Sean retorts. "I don't like to think of you hurting - especially not because of me."

"No?" Viggo returns, his fists clenching by his sides."You didn't seem to mind much about that when I called three months ago, Sean. Neither of us handled the split well - I know that. But when I called to try and put things right, you cut me short – had me filed away already as I recall; you didn't want to listen to anything I had to say."

Sean moves closer. Now he can see hurt and brightness in Viggo's eyes and it gives him some hope. "I know – and I'm sorry," he says softly. "I was hurt when we drifted apart - really hurt. And I was determined not to feel like that again. I thought I'd found something that I could call a life - and like you, I thought I'd healed. But then you rang and I knew that I'd just covered up the cracks, Viggo - not repaired them. So I had to stop you talking because I was scared I'd hear something that would make me want to take another chance. Because my head told me that I was better off without you, that the life I was living was enough and that _we_ were better off apart."

Viggo nods slowly. The two of them were just the same - stupid and stubborn - but dealing with their hurt in different ways. But Sean wouldn't come all the way over here if that's all he wanted to say, would he? And with that thought, the words tumble out. "If you thought all that, then why are you here now?" he asks, suddenly very much aware of Sean's proximity; if he just reached out a hand, he could touch – and _fuck_ , he wanted to touch so bad...

"Because my head didn't have all the answers," Sean whispers, taking a breath then taking a chance and lifting his hand to cup Viggo's cheek. An almost imperceptible sigh leaves Sean's lips as Viggo's eyes close and he leans into the touch. "But your words did, Viggo," Sean continues, his voice barely a whisper now. "And my heart seemed to agree."

For a few moments, they stand just stand there still and silent, Sean's fingers tenderly stroking Viggo's cheekbone. Then Viggo clears his throat, opens his eyes and takes a step closer. Still leaning into Sean's warm hand, Viggo slips a hand round his waist and into his back pocket in an old and familiar gesture. "Yeah?" he murmurs with a smile. "Well, why don't I make a cup of tea and you can tell me all about that heart of yours..."

  


\-- [END] -- 


End file.
